


Complexity and Complication

by sixbeforelunch



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pon Farr, Pregnancy, Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 03:45:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/pseuds/sixbeforelunch
Summary: After Star Trek III, there is a complication.





	Complexity and Complication

He did not remember.

Saavik smoothed the front of her loose garments and drew a breath.

He did not remember. Did this make it better, or worse? It was a question that she had often considered, and she had yet to reach a conclusion. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was hesitating. This was not logical, and neither was it kind. Spock was waiting, and Spock was a busy man. He was an important man. She rested her hand on her stomach, and permitted herself a moment, just a moment, to remember her controls and settle herself. Then, turning sharply as a well-turned out cadet, she left her bedchamber and walked down the hall to the private sitting area.

Spock was standing at the window, hands loosely clasped behind his back. He turned when she entered, and greeted her with a nod of his head. She carefully seated herself on one of stools and Spock did likewise.

"I was surprised," he said, "that you chose not to return to duty following the events on Genesis. My understanding is that there were many excellent opportunities open to you."

She nodded slowly. "There were, however I have personal reasons for remaining on Vulcan at present." Outside, she could hear the _sharva_ starting their evening hunt. It was a familiar, comforting sound. She forged on. "Such reasons are, in fact, what I wish to discuss with you today."

He inclined his head in an invitation to continue.

She drew a breath, and hoped that he did not notice the slight tremor in her hands. He did. She saw his glance, almost too quick for her to register. His expression did not change. It never did. It never had. Her lapses were always noted, but only commented on when necessary. It had been so when she had been a feral child, and it was so now. He has always been kind to her. She felt, illogically, as through she was about to betray that kindness. 

She lifted her chin and forced herself to speak. "You do not recall the events that took place on the Genesis planet."

"I do not. I likely never will."

She nodded slowly, choosing her words with care. "However, you know that your body matured from infancy to full maturity in a matter of days. While there was no consciousness present in the body, in all other ways your body progressed to adulthood as did during your first...life. You grew taller, stronger..." She pressed her lips together. "And you reached sexual maturity." 

Spock went very still. "I burned," she said softly, and she nodded. 

He looked away. "I thought I might have, but I had hoped that with no consciousness to be disordered, you might have been spared that."

"No. The Fever took you as it would any Vulcan, when you reached the age for it. I assisted you."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Then I owe you my life, and I thank you."

"I did only what was logical. I could not let you die. But...there is an additional complication."

She saw understanding dawn in his face, as his logical, intelligent mind put together the pieces and drew the most reasonable conclusion. "Saavik, do you carry my child?"

She looked down at her hands. "I do."

He said nothing. She forced herself to look up and meet his eyes. She could not read his expression, but it was calm, and there was not a trace of anger in it. Still, she found a hysterical giggle threatening to break free and she said, "I am very sorry."

He raised an eyebrow. "Saavikam, why do you apologize?"

The endearment was comforting even as it contained within it so many of her concerns--her fears, for fear it was that made her muscles tense and her lips tremble late at night when she lay awake in bed. "I should have prevented it somehow. I should have told you sooner."

"You are not being logical," he said. "You did nothing wrong. No reasonable person could have foreseen the events that occurred on Genesis, and thus no reasonable person could fault you for not having in your possession some means of contraception capable of withstanding the Fever."

Saavik permitted herself a small smile, not even certain why she was amused. There had been condoms among the supplies. She had thought of them and dismissed them in one instant. Pon farr was not just a sex drive. It was a reproductive drive. However much both parties might want to avoid conception, once in the grip of the Fever, they would not consent to contraception. The hormonal methods used on other worlds were useless or dangerous in the face of the neurochemical and hormone imbalances that characterized the Fever. In the centuries before easily reversible microsurgery, there had been only one method of birth control other than early term abortion--one that could be inserted up to two weeks ahead of time and could not be removed by either party once activated. Instead, it remained in place for a full six weeks, until it dissolved on its own. The woman who had invented it had been named T'Pel. She was not publicly lauded as some inventors and scientists were, but by the enduring popularity of her name and the many fingers that brushed her name place in the hall of memory where she resided, the women of Vulcan showed their gratitude.

"As to your other suggestions," Spock said, interrupting her thoughts, "telling me sooner may not have been entirely wise." With an ironic lift of any eyebrow, he added, "It has been a tumultuous few months." He feel silent, looking out into the dark red evening sky.

She took several slow, deep breaths. "What shall we do now?"

"That is your choice. I burned and you saved me despite their being no contract between us." He spread his hands. "As I have no wife and you carry my child, by Vulcan law, I am yours, if you wish it."

"I do not intend to force you into a marriage. What do you wish?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, and looked down. Saavik realized that she had never seen him so completely uncertain. "This is a confusing circumstance," he said finally. "I care for you a great deal. I have for many years. In some ways you have been--" he winced, slightly "--like a daughter."

"Not a daughter," Saavik said, with a slight gesture to her stomach. "Clearly." Parents did not breed with children. It simply did not happen, not even in pon farr. Siblings, trapped in a bad situation, would mate to save a life, but parents and children never. The telepathic parent-child bond prevented it. Their minds repelled against a mating bond like two magnets with the same charge.

"Clearly," Spock echoed. 

Her hands shook again. She twisted them up in fabric of her robe to still them. "You have been my guardian, and my mentor. I had begun to believe that we might someday progress to being friends, that in the future, we might meet as colleagues. Could we yet be husband and wife? Could you see me as your equal, despite our past?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I have always considered you my equal. I may exceed you in experience and knowledge, but even as a child I was struck by your intelligence and courage. As an adult, you...impress me."

She unclenched her hands and smoothed the fabric. "I need time to think. And there is more to discuss."

He nodded. "Of course. I will await your decision."

"Our decision. Whatever the law may say, this will be our decision." She got up and walked to the window, mirroring the position he had been in when she had walked in. "You do not remember. It seems wrong. One should remember the conception of their child."

"Ideally," Spock said. "But the universe is not an ideal one. I do not remember your act of mercy towards me, but I remember many other actions of yours which have caused me to come to respect and care for you. And--" When he didn't continue, she turned and raised an eyebrow. He inclined his head slightly and said, "And we can make new memories."

She reached out her hand, two fingers extended. He blinked, and responded in kind, the tips of their fingers barely brushing. It was strange, but not unpleasant.

"Yes," Saavik said. "Perhaps we can."

end

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting on my hard drive for years. At one time I had a longer story planned, but I never got around to it, and I think this little snippit stands on its own.


End file.
